30 Days
by A Rabid Zombie
Summary: Sometimes you fall in love with people you'd never have spoken to if it weren't for the flesh-eating zombies that brought you together. Other times, you just need a broad, tattooed shoulder to cry on. Francis/Zoey fluff. Rated M for mature language and possible violence in later chapters.
1. Holding Hands

A/N: This is the first of a thirty day challenge. Any OTP could be used, so I went with one of my favorites. This pairing doesn't get enough love, in my opinion. This isn't beta'd and I doubt any of the others are going to be- sorry about that.

If you don't like FRANCIS/ZOEY you should probably turn back now because this won't be your cup of tea.

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 1: Holding Hands

There were so many things wrong with the situation it wasn't even funny. He was too old for her. They weren't from the same social cliques. He was an old biker, covered in tattoos and scars that would have made him terrifying to her if they had meet a year before they stumbled across each other. She was a college drop-out- at least, she would have dropped out if she had had the time to before the world went to Hell and drop-out sounded better than failure- who had never been in a fight or even to a real bar before. Normally, girls like her only met guys like him in back alleys and it ended with years of therapy and possibly an abortion for one of them and a bragging story over a few beers for the other. It was actually depressing to think about.

Days consisted mostly of running and fighting off- _killing_- things that looked so much like people in a desperate attempt to not end up a beaten and half-eaten corpse wandering around some suburban Hell or abandoned cityscape or even some backwater little hole in the wall that wouldn't even have a marker on a map. With so much shit all day, every day, there was no need to go over everything about the situation that was _wrong_. There was enough of that in their lives without twisting the simple things in life that made her happy into another thing wrong with world. Instead, it was better to focus on the positive.

He had told her that- or, something similar enough- once a long time ago when the wounds were still fresh. Not physical wounds. There was hardly a day when they weren't aquiring fresh new scrapes and bruises and cuts to add to their collection of 'survival badges'- he had given her that phrase, that way to look at them, during a different pep talk. It had been the psychological wounds. Scrapes in her self-worth in this world that cared more in the ability to wield a gun than the ability to recall movie quotes. Bruises to the parts of her that had been so sure she wouldn't make the same stupid mistakes everyone made in horror movies- the same stupid mistakes he had saved her from too many times to count in the beginning. Deep, gaping, bleeding gashes in her sense of morality back when she hoenstly felt sorry for those _things_. She had called him a murderer the first time she saw one die, when he blew her room mate's head clear off. She had called him a sociopath when he didn't break a little more every time he killed one the same way she did. She had called him many things worse than that when too many little breaks added up to a complete shattering melt-down and he stopped her from ending everything with a single bullet.

He didn't even get mad at her when she yelled that she hated him for keeping her stuck in that living nightmare or when she called him selfish and said that the only reason he kept her alive was because he was too scared to either live alone or end it himself. That had been wrong, too. He should have left her to kill herself or, at least, gotten mad. He should have done anything other than laugh it off with some cheesy line about not being able to repopulate the world without her whenever they found somewhere safe to settle down. She had been sure at that point that he was completely nuts. That had been wrong as well.

He wasn't crazy. He was a survivor. He knew that things were fucked up and that the only way he'd be able to deal with it was to be fucked up, too. That was how he explained it to her once, during of their many talks. There had been a lot of times in his life when things got fucked up. He was an expert in dealing with the fucked up. It was his forte and he'd be damned if some undead wussies would get the better of a man who had spent his life out-fuck-upping a world that had been pretty fucked up to begin with.

A year ago, she wouldn't have given that kind of man the time of day. All the wrong things about him and her and the two of them as a _couple_ would have scared her away. Hell, maybe he wouldn't have wanted her, either. All those wrongs would have stood in the way of them being together and that thought made her frown more than the zombies the longer they ran and fought and killed in that world made up of so many wrongs because, despite all the wrong, she was happy.

Francis noticed the thoughtful frown on his companion's face- he was really good at telling her mood just by glancing at her and even better at improving it when he didn't like what he saw- and slipped his hand into hers, even though it meant having to use his pistol instead of his favored shotgun. As a large, calloused hand closed around his companion's dainty one that lost a little of it's softness with every passing day, he could see in her eyes all the wrongs slip away and feel in the way her hand gripped his the one big right that kept them both going: in middle of a wrong, fucked up, wussy infected world, they had managed to find each other and, wouldn't you know it, the happened to be just right for each other in a world of wrongs.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 2: Cuddling Somewhere

One of the things Zoey missed most about the good old days was air conditioning, especially during the first winter of the apocalypse. The first few months after everything went to Hell had been almost unbearably hot, especially because she refused to take off her lucky pink jacket, but those days were made tolerable whenever Francis got fed up and lost the shirt. He'd keep his vest, as stubburn about his good-luck clothing as her, but that somehow made the sight more appealing to the ex-college student. Winter meant no more good views of her companion and no possibility of getting comfortable. It was harder for her to get warm than it was to cool down. Losing so much weight from a lack of snack food and the exercise of fending off the undead and foraging for shelter, food, and supplies didn't help at all.

Moving around all night made the cold harder to notice. She didn't have time to miss things like heaters when she was running for her life and doing everything she could to make sure her three other companions lived to see another terror-filled night along with her. It was the days that made her discomfort truly noticeable. Being out in the soft sunlight might have helped, though she honestly doubted that, but it was too risky to move around during the day. Less shadows to creep along made it harder to move around during the days. It was the main reason why the group had become somewhat nocturnal. Whenever it was getting too close to morning, the rag-tag group of survivors wold find a safe place to hold up in and spend the day.

Bill and Louis were taking a shift watching Zoey and Francis' backs to allow them some time to sleep. The two groups would switch halfway through the day so they would all be rested enough to carry on when night fell. It was a good system that had been working well for them once they got into the swing of things, but the whole system fell apart if anyone was unable to get rest. It was a liability to be half-awake and none of them could afford to be sloppy during the nightly journeys. That was why, despite how cold she was, Zoey tried her best to curl into a ball and get warm enough to sleep. The dampness of her clothing from a night of sweating and action made it difficult.

Francis noticed his young companion shivering on the tattered rags they had amassed into a make-shift bed. He didn't much mind the cold, having spent enough nights too broke to afford a place to stay or out in the middle of nowhere and too tired to keep riding his bike to an actual city, or just enjoying the sense of freedom of being away from society, to be used to the low temperature. The biker got up from the spot on the floor he had been laying on and crossed the small distance to the brunette.

Neither of them had been much for cuddling before the apocalypse, but Francis knew the kid would enjoy the addition of his body heat to hers. Zoey didn't even make a snarky remark about him being a big softy under all the scars and tattoos as he took up the position of big spoon. They laid with each other in comfortable silence, strong arms wrapped around a small frame that slowly stopped shivering. Soft brown eyes slid shut as Zoey snuggled back into her leather-clad heater and the two stayed like that for the rest of the day.

The moment was only broken when Francis, unable to help himself, commented, "This reminds me of a zombie flick I saw once with four dudes and a chick, but they were eating her in a completely different way."

Zoey snorted and lazily reached back to give him a smack on the thigh, "Too bad for you this is a horror movie, not a porno."

"Yeah," the biker laughed, "Too bad."


	3. Gaming or Watching a Movie

A/N: Fourteen hours later than I would have liked and not beta'd. Sorry. Enjoy?

Disclaimer: I do not own L4D/L4D2 or the world/characters therein.

30 Day Challenge 3: Gaming/Watching a movie

Searching for and collecting enough gas, having to take the extra time and ammo to clear out the area and then putting old mattresses and egg cartons and things against the shed walls that surrounded the generator they had found was well worth it according to Zoey and Louis, and a waste of time to Francis and Bill. Still, the four had banded together to get the generator they had found attached to a mess of a house working to be able to actually have electricity for a day. There was always the chance that the sound would draw a horde of the undead upon them. That was what Bill was worried about. Francis just didn't see why they would need a generator.

As was their usual routine, Louis and Bill took first watch when everything was set up and the survivors were as settled for the day as they were going to be. Bill had cautioned them that they wouldn't be getting any extra time to rest and told them to make sure they got some sleep. Francis had waved him off and made a jab at the other man's age, which earned him a glare. The eldest of the survivors was shaking his head and muttering about pains in the asses while Louis laughed and followed behind him.

When they were alone, Zoey was quick to break the silence, "They hav here."

"Yeah, so?" Francis was more occupied with using the place's small refrigerator to cool down the beers he had found laying around the place. There was no telling when he'd get a cold one again and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity, "I doubt there's anything good on."

The college student rolled her eyes, "They have a 360 and some controllers, too."

"What?" Francis wandered out of the kitchen and into the main room, idly kicking at some of the trash that littered the floor out of his way as he did so. Sharp gray eyes zeroed in on the white gaming box the youngest of them was messing with, "Oh." He crossed his arms as he watched her, paying more attention to her ass than whatever she was actually doing, "You used to play that shit?"

The ex-college student dug out a couple of controllers and fired up the console, "Yeah. I wasn't the best at it, but I bet I can kick your ass." She smirked and held out a black controller to the biker, challenging him.

Francis accepted, taking the thing from her and looking it over. It was covered in buttons and triggers and shit, but he figured it wouldn't be that hard to figure out. "Last time you said you could kick my ass at anything, I kicked your ass," he laughed.

"Yeah, well, this time you're going down, old man," Zoey laughed as she started up the game.

The biker rose a brow as the screen filled with zombies, because they haven't dealt with enough of those fucking things already, and some group of assholes running around with guns. It all looked too damn familiar for him. "Really, Zoey?"

"This was the only mutliplayer one they had. You aren't afraid of a few fake zombies, are you?" The brunette continued setting up, smirking at the biker as she did so, "You don't have to play if you don't want it. It's alright, it wasn't like you could win anyways."

"Fuck that," Francis growled, gripping the controller a little tighter, "I smoke you in real zombie killing, I can do it in the fake shit, too."

"Great," Zoey laughed, "Now pick a character. There're four to choose from."

Stormy eyes rolled as he looked over the choices. Some fat black dude, some cute black chick, some shady ass-hole looking guy, and some little hick guy. If we was gonna be staring at some character on a screen, it may as well be one he wanted to look at. He chose the black chick. To his surprise, Zoey went with the little red-neck dude.

As the game started, the characters on screen had some banter going on, but Francis didn't really listen to it. He was more concerned with figuring out how to move, shoot, punch things, and all that shit. He grinned when he picked up a fire ax, "Shiiiit... this gives me an idea. Next fire ax we find, guess what I'm doing."

"Gee, I wonder."

A couple minutes later found the two of them on the edge of their seats, shit talking the zombies and their team mates and each other as they fought their way through a virtual world that pretty accurately mirrored the one they were living. It was ridiculous that they could have any bit of fun playing a game about the things they feared in real life, but neither questioned it. They were too busy competing with each other for kills and head shots and who could beat the most zombies to death with a frying pan when found one.

"Nooooo..." Zoey murmured when the pair came up on an abandoned car auction under a highway overpass, "No no no..." they crept between the cars, trying to kill off any zombie in their way without setting off any alarms.

Francis wasn't as cautious about the situation when he got away from the small horde that his team mate had left him in the middle of. "Worried about that, huh?" He kept back, watching her wander about half way through the mess of abandonded cars, "It would be really dick if someone, I don't know..." He pulled out a pipe bomb, "Did this!" He threw the pipe bomb, getting a few zombies to wander away from Zoey. The bomb exploded, stealing all those kills from his team mate and setting off a few alarms.

"Dammit!" Zoey growled in frustration as she was suddenly swarmed by the living dead. "Thanks a lot, Francis!" She would have glared at him if she didn't have to keep her eyes on the screen. She settled for glaring at the undead jerks she was killing instead.

"No problem," the biker laughed, picking off a few zombies from his vantage point.

When the zombies were all taken care of, he caught up with his companion and the two continued on. Before too long, and after many bouts of shit-talking at each other and generally screwing each other over every chance they each got, the two had reached the last stretch of the level. It all came down to this. Get on the boat and live, miss the boat and die by undead freak. Neither of them had any healing things left and both were low on ammo. There was a wait between them calling the boat and the boat actually showing up- something both had dealt with in real life enough times to hate the shit out of. Wave after wave of undead showed up, but it all seemed manageable until the very end.

The boat finally showed up and the two made a break for it. The game, in a last ditch effort to fell the survivors, sent everything it had at the two of them. The two computer characters were the first to die off, but the other two kept going. They were close to the end, so close, and both out of ammo when a wave of enemies rushed them from every direction.

Francis threw his last pipe bomb and then switched over to the frying pan he had given up the ax for as the game threw a special zombie at them. It was just like the fucking tanks they both feared and hated in real life.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Zoey growled, having to switch to duel weilding pistols when her autoshotty was spent, "We're not gonna make it!"

"Sure we will," Francis growled back, "Just keep running! Ignore the big guy and keep running! We'll make it to the boat, don't worry!"

Zoey kept running, trusting that Francis would be right behind her. She got to the boat and turned in time to see that Francis hadn't been running with her. He had been distracting the tank with nothing more than the damn frying pan. His character was killed and the game ended with only her surviving. The room was silent save to the dramatic ending credit music of the game as the two came down from their gaming induced frenzies.

Soft brown eyes slid away from the screen and over to glare at the biker next to her. She glared and hit in in the arm as hard as she could, "Jerk!"

"What?" Francis smirked back at her, "You hit like a girl, by the way."

His comment earned him another hit in the arm as his companion continued to glare at him and said, "Never do that! If we run to that stupid boat, we _both_ run to that stupid boat, jerk!"

The tattooed man waved it away, "It's just a game, Zoey. Calm down!" He didn't tell her that he would never, _never_ run to the stupid boat with her if staying behind meant she would be able to make it. He wasn't sentimental enough of a guy to be able to say that kind of thing out loud.

"Yeah, yeah," Zoey got up from her seat next to the biker to turn the 360 off, "Whatever." She took longer than she had to in turning everything off and putting the game away because it meant not having to look back at the biker. It was stupid to get worked up over a game, and she knew that, but that didn't keep her eyes from tearing up at the thought of Francis doing something like that in real life.

The rest of their time was spent with some old movie on for background noise while the two slept. Zoey had never held onto the biker quite so fiercely in her sleep before, but Francis wasn't complaining. He made a mental note, as he fell asleep, to grab the first fire ax they came across. It would be so much more useful than that fucking frying pan was.


	4. On A Date

A/N: Late, un-Beta'd again. I'm sorry. Enjoy? x.x

Disclaimer: I don't own L4D or any of the characters/world therein, 10 Things I Hate About You, or Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You by Frankie Valli

30 Day Challenge 4: On a Date

It never stopped being disturbing. The constant groans and growls. The banging and scraping of grayed, rotting flesh against eh reinforced metal of the safe house doors or, more recently, the sound of the chain link fence that kept the wandering dead from assaulting the four survivors in their new home. The constant stench of the dead, rotting corpses- both risen and not- and the dilapidated, moldy, collapsing buildings was bearable because it faded into the background. The sight of blood and decay could only be disturbing for so long before it stopped having any kind of shock and awe effect as the brain became desensitized to such macabre things. The sounds, the incessant sounds of the hungry dead, however never gadded into the background and never stopped being terrifying.

Days, weeks, months, years? If any of the survivors had been keeping track of how long they had spent on the run, in search of rescue or safe haven, none of them made mention of it. Even thought they had no idea how long they had been running, at least one of them had been keeping track of how long it had been since they had found an abandoned- over-run- prison to hold up in. It had taken a few weeks to clear the place out- double and triple checking to make sure they didn't miss anything- and to make it liveable.

Since the day they had decided to stop searching for rescue, Louis had been keeping track the days. He couldn't be too sure if he had the month or day exactly right, but it wasn't like there was anyone to correct him so it didn't matter if he was a little off. No one noticed the calender he had been making from things he had found in the warden's office and the library until almost a year later. A couple days before the one year mark, Francis wandered in on the former cubical drone.

"Hey, think you could," the biker stopped mid-sentence and looked the other man over. The sight of Louis in his usual outfit, hunched over a desk and writing out days, months, holidays and the like, made the tattooed man laugh, "Once a pencil pusher, always a pencil pusher, huh?"

Despite the jab- he knew Francis teased rough- Louis chuckled and shook his head, "Nah, man. I wouldn't go back to that even if the world went back to normal. I just wanted to keep track of our time here. You know, make it feel more normal."

A large hand rubbed at the stubs of hair that dotted the biker's head, in thought, "Oh, yeah? I never really knew what day it was before all this shit." He leaned over the desk, looking over the dates, "Are we really commin' up on one year?"

"Yep," Louis nodded. He grinned at his fellow survivor, not shocked that the other man wasn't thetype to give a shit about the date. He steered the conversation back to what he had been curious about since Francis walked in, "What did you need help with?"

Whatever it was was waed off, "Don't worry about it. I gotta go take care of some things..."

* * *

Zoey hugged, crossing her arms as she sat, alone, in the large cafeteria of the prison. Before the end of the world, she had been somewhat of a loner and wouldn't have been bothered, but everything she had seen and the constant sound of those things trying to get in and eat everyone made being alone infinitely less appealing. Still, Francis had left a note- who even did that, anyways?- asking her to meet him, so there she was. Waiting. Alone.

Twenty minutes dragged on before the ex-student got fed up enough to leave. Just as she stood, the lights all went out. Zoey froze, feeling like and idiot for not having brought her flash light and much, much worse for not having her gun on her. What if she needed it?

What if they had gotten through the two fences? Hadn't they been picking off zombies every day to keep enough of them from building up and knocking down the fence? What if Francis hadn't shown up because he was in trouble, or...? Why hadn't she heard any gunshots?

A soft white noise started; it would have been inaudible over the ambiant sounds of the dead if Zoey hadn't been on high alert. Her brain couldn't figure uot what the noise meant or where it was coming from until something far more recognizable burst through the static.

"You're just too good," Francis' voice, "To be true..." Francis' _singing_ voice, "Can't take my eyes off of you."

Shocked, Zoey sank back down into the hard plastic chair at the table she had been waiting at.

She had never heard the biker sing before. His voice was just like she would have expected, probably more at home singing the blues or growling along to some metal song, but it wasn't too bad and definitely scored points on the cute meter. A small, almost awkward smile grew on her features. She hadn't smiled like that since before the dead stopped staying dead.

"You'd be like Heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much..." the voice faded back to static.

The lack of song didn't last long as the double doors to the cafeteria burst open, bringing in a grinning biker, pushing a cart that held two plates with a candle between them, "I LOVE YOU BABY! AND, IF IT'S QUITE ALRIGHT, I NEED YOU BABY TO WARM THE LONELY NIGHT!"

"I LOVE YOU, BABY!" Zoey couldn't keep herself from joining in, "TRUST IN ME WHEN I SAAAAAAAAY!"

Francis let go of the cart and grabbed Zoey,hauling her out of her chair to dance with him. She could smell alcohol on his breath. Considering who she was dancing with, she would have been more surprised if he were sober. The two danced together like that, both yelling out the song and sounding equally horrible.

"OH PRETTY BABY! DON'T BRING ME DOWN! I PRAY, OH PRETTY BABY, NOW THAT I'VE FOUND YOU, STAY!"

The last line of the song became a muffled sound of surprise as Francis captured Zoey's lips with his own. He pulled her flush against him, her arms sliding aruond his neck. When the biker pulled back, it was only far enough to softly murmur to the brunette in his arms.

"So, let me love you, Baby, let me looooooooove yoooooooooou."

Soey grinned, having forgotten the constant moaning and all the little things lost as she stared up into sfot, stormy eyes, "I love 10 Thing I Hate About You."

Without anything to really say to that- the Hell was she talking about?- Francis leaned in and kissed her again.

They shared a simple meal by candle light- Francis' ability to sing far surpassing his ability to cook- to celebrate their first year living somewhere together. It didn't have much competition, but it was easily the best date of Zoey's life.


	5. Kissing

A/N: Thanks to WildMomo24 for reviewing. I was half awake for most of writing this. /dies

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 5: Kissing

College kids were notorious for being promiscuous- all the movies were very clear on that. All of them. If there was a character old enough to be in college, they were either sleeping with someone, trying to sleep with someone, or someone was trying to sleep with them and the two would hook up by the end of the film. Zoey was well aware that she was the token college kid, but she wasn't sure if she was alright with that fact. She wasn't very _active_ before the world ended, and walking corpses didn't make things less awkward for her. Of the three choices, she definitely fell under door number three- except for that getting together at the end of the movie part. Then again, her movie wasn't anywhere near over. Hopefully.

Having someone around who was interested in her wasn't exactly new for the brunette- she had been hit on a few times at the couple of parties and few classes that she had gone to- and it wasn't exactly bad- especially because it was _Francis_ looking at her and she had grown very fond of the biker. The thing that made it weird was the fact that she had never been good in those situations. Zoey was awkward; the type who still blushed when someone brought up the subject. She could get to first base, but fumbled the ball before getting anywhere near the green.

If they hadn't found a place to hold up in, if they still spent their nights running for the next safe room- the next, hopefully, open evac center- she wouldn't have to worry about _that_. The big 'S' was the last thing on everyone's mind when they had not dying to worry about. Even if it was one Francis' mind, he never brought it up before. Wishing they could go back to those days with the fear and danger for the sake of her own awkwardness was horrible, but Zoey sometimes wished for the good old days anyway.

After their day- having a date during the apocalypse in and of itself was weird, but it was adorable and Zoey had been so happy- Francis brought it up. He didn't really bring it up with words so much as his hands _moved_ from being around her to slowly going up her back, moving her shirt with them as the went. It wasn't unwelcome, not really, but Zoey hadn't been expecting it and didn't know how to react, so she did the totally mature college kid thing. She freaked out, left, and had been avoiding Francis ever since.

She didn't think that she was in any danger of Francis doing anything she didn't want. She wasn't afraid that the biker would force himself on her or anything. Francis wasn't that kind of man. Sure, he had tattoos and he laughed about things that reminded him of bar fights and he was a bald biker who had probably been in a gang at some point- the kind of man she couldn't really have brought home to meet the folks in the pre-zombie days- but that didn't make him a rapist and Zoey knew it. Her reason for not being around him wasn't fear. She was embarrassed. How could she spend time with him and hang out and look him in the eye after ditching him like that? It made her feel childish and awful.

That was the last thing she wanted to feel like, especially in areas that concerned the older man who had gained her trust and who she felt things- serious things- for. Zoey liked to think that she had been handling the changes to the world really well and that she had grown up as a person from the start of it all up until meeting the other three and them deciding to settle down and build a new life. She wasn't the same kid who huddled in the dark and watched horror movies alone, not wanting to go to class because she didn't want to deal with having to talk to other people. She didn't complain about stupid things like who was dating who or what happened in whatever television series she was watching at the time.

Zoey did things like remurder the undead. She patched up Bill, even when the war vet insisted that he was fine and didn't need it. She pushed hunters off Louis when he got pounced. She had head-shot contests with Francis, for crying out loud! She was the bad-ass chick in the movie, not the super girly one that cried all the time and couldn't stand the sight of her own blood. What kind of bad-ass got scare and ran away whenever someone got too close? She hated it, but it was just how she was. Childish. It was childish to be so freaked out about that kind of thing. There was no reason for it.

The thought of Francis looking at her and thinking she was just a stupid kid because she ran off was the worst. It was hard to stomach. They had been through so much together. She had feelings for him and he had feelings for her. It would have been great if she could have gotten over being weird and just went all the way with him. He was a great guy. He was better than a great guy. He probably thought she was so immature.

"Too bad the last woman left on this crazy planet is _you_," Zoey muttered to herself one day, about two weeks after the incident. "Just had to be some childish kid who can't do the grown-up dance." She rolled over on her cot in the cell she had been using as a room, hugging her arms around herself and dwelling on the situation the same she had been doing since it happened, "I'm sure Francis is just _thrilled_ about that. I'm not the leading woman. I'm the obligatory girl who can't handle anything more than a kiss. Great!"

Unfortunately for her, someone happened to be walking by, and they happened to over hear her talking to herself. Francis stopped walking and turned to face the cell. He leaned his back against the railing opposite the bars that stood between him and Zoey and shook his head, "Really?"

The sound of the biker's deep voice made the brunette jump. Slowly, as though it were the most horrible thing she would see in this movie, she rolled back over to look at the man who had spoken to her, "...hey, Francis..." Sitting up, she gave a small wave and weak smile, "How long have you been creeping around?"

"Creeping around?" The tattooed man laughed and ran a hand through his non-existent hair, "Long enough to hear you go on about being a girl." He laughed again, either not noticing or ignoring the glare it earned him from the college student, "For a girl, you're one Hell of a shot, by the way." Though he never lost his smile, something in his eyes got a touch more serious when he asked, "Do you really think I hate you now because you don't do 'the grown-up dance'?"

Brown eyes softened slightly; still glaring, but it wasn't as heated as it had been, "Why wouldn't you be? You make a move and I freak out and run away. It wouldn't be the first time some guy got all pissed off because I didn't sleep with him."

Francis didn't seem the least bit bothered by the look he was receiving as he answered, "You know, I've met a lot of women who _do the grown-up dance_ all the time. They wouldn't have been half as good as you in this crap. You, Zoey, have my back. You Louis' back. Hell, you even have Bill's back; even when he's being an old pain in the ass. And, trust me, you're the hottest one here by far. If you don't want to have sex, fine. I'll wait."

"What?" Zoey blinked at her companion, not having expected that from him, "You'll wait?"

"Hell yeah," the tattooed man grinned and flexed, "Look at me, I'm the second hottest one here! If you don't want to tap this, I'll wait. After all, you can't say no forever. I'm a catch.""

The brunette got off her bed and walked to the cell door, looking Francis up and down with a teasing smile, "Are you now?"

Francis slid the cell open with a familiarity that none of the other survivors had had when they first arrived. It probably had something to do with Francis having more experience with prisons than the others. He didn't walk in the cell, not wanting to freak the woman out again, "I'd go so far as to say I'm the best lookin' man alive, and until you're ready for this, I can settle for just kissing."

"Oh, you think I want to kiss you now, huh?" Zoey laughed, stepping out of the cell to stand just in front of the taller man with a playfully defiant look.

Shrugging, Francis replied, "Why the hell wouldn't you, I've been pretty damn charming, if I do say so myself." His grin was a more compelling argument than his words. He looked good scowling, but he looked damn good whenever he grinned.

Zoey didn't say anything. She stepped closer, leaned in, wrapped her arms around her fellow survivor's neck, and kissed him. It was more forward than she had ever been, initiating the kiss instead of following her partner's lead, but it was also as far as she could bring herself to go. Francis didn't pull away or try to make it more than that. He rested his hands on her hips and returned the kiss, letting Zoey decide how deep or passionate it would be. He was true to his word, not pressing the subject or urging her to do more, instead he would let the college woman decide what she was alright with doing and focused more on enjoying what he was being given instead of what he wasn't.


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothing

A/N: I should call this the half-awake challenge, because that seems to be how I am when I write these. I hope it makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't. I'm passing out now. Enjoy?

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothing

Funny how things go from good to bad to horrible so quickly.

The day had been bright and sunny; the first warm day they had had in a long time. Zoey had been tempted to leave her pink jacket behind when Francis asked her to go out on a supply run with him. The only reason she had bothered to take it at all was because it was her lucky jacket and, since they were leaving the safety of their new home, she figured a little bit of luck wouldn't hurt. Francis didn't complain. He still refused to wear anything other than his lucky vest whenever he did anything that wasn't sleeping.

The two left the prison on foot because Francis hated driving in cars and he really hated riding I them unless it was a life or death emergency. The first time he had called Zoey a Cager for suggesting it, she had almost fallen over laughing before realizing he was serious. Since that time, she had stopped asking if he wanted to go on foot or by car. It was one of the reasons Francis didn't go on supply runs very often. He and Bill usually stayed and kept an eye on things at their new home while Louis and Zoey went out to get whatever goods they all felt they needed. That Francis was one of the two heading out meant that what they were doing was close or they were doing something that probably warranted them needing a little extra luck.

The two prepared for their supply run early to be sure they'd be ready to leave the moment the sun went down. Despite Zoey figuring they wouldn't have to be as careful as they used to- there were a lot less zombies roaming than there used to be form what she could tell- Bill made her promise to wait until it was night. She figured he was being paranoid, but did as he asked anyways. No point in starting a fight over it. Francis had his handy shotgun and a pistol, as well as a large duffel bag for supplies. Zoey had two pistols and a sniper rifle slung across her back in case she needed it. She also had a health pack in case one of them needed it. Francis said he didn't need that stuff slowing him down, especially since he was going to be the pack mule, much to Bill's annoyance. After the veteran and the former office worker wished the two luck and made them swear to come back in one piece- with the supplies- the biker and the college dropout were off to get what they could; and if that didn't sound like the synopsis of the worst movie ever, Zoey didn't know what did.

Things didn't get bad until they had been out for about half the day, walking down the abandoned road ways towards the small town they had been gathering things from since they found the prison. There weren't many normal infected out and about. Those were easy to pick off and would have been little more than a minor annoyance to the survivors who had been through so much and had easily killed over a hundred of those things before. There were, however, an abundance of the special things; the ones that had evolved into something worse than the usual brain-eaters. None of the four survivors knew what made some people become mindless zombies and what made some become specials, but whatever it was had been happening to make them special had been happening a lot during the winter.

The last fourth of the journey was spent running like hell with a pack of hunters on their tails. Bullets flew through the air, but getting one to actually hit the agile zombies was difficult at best, and scoring a kill with only one bullet was damn near impossible. It didn't help matters that they had to constantly watch out for the hoodie-clad things pouncing them from any direction. A group of hunters was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to a group of hunters that was acting together like an animal pack. That wasn't fair. It really wasn't. Even less fair was losing her health pack, the only one between the two of them, when the shoulder strap snapped. Or maybe that was bad luck. Zoey didn't know, but she didn't have time to stop or pick it up. All she could do was resolve to grab it on their way back. A trip they would be making because they _would_ make it out of the situation alive. She told herself that, as though it would help her believe.

"Up ahead!" Zoey shouted, pointing at a large church with her gun before having to swing the firearm to the right and pump several bullets into one of their chasers before it got her.

The church was the only overly large building in town with the exception of the mall. The

massive wooden door would be a bitch to move, but the survivors would be set for a while if they could get it between them and the hunters. The windows would be a problem, especially because of the hunters' ability to jump, but at least it meant there were only so many places the zombies could be coming from. Over all, it was a lot better than being stuck running down an open road.

The biker didn't have to tell Zoey he understood her plan. Getting to the church was the obvious thing to do and, even if it hadn't been, he had been working along Zoey for long enough to get her way of thinking without her having to say anything- at least, that was how it was with zombie things that their lives depended on. Instead of saying anything, he focused on covering their front and left sides, trusting her to get the back and right. What he didn't expect was to hear the sound of her two pistols clicking empty. For half a second, he glanced over at his companion to see if she was really out or just had to reload. From that point on, everything happened in slow motion.

Zoey's hands were moving the moment she realized she was out, reaching for the next clip and finding nothing to replenish her ammunition with. When the realization dawned that there was nothing left, she holstered the two guns and swung the rifle around. It wasn't ideal for quick targets as close as the hunters were, but it was all she had left. As she was doing that, one of the pack saw there chance and released a fierce growl as it leaped towards the pink jacket that covered the girl's back. Blood red claws were outstretched, ready to dig into soft flesh and add a fresh coat of blood to the hunter's massive talons.

Without thinking about it, Francis moved to the side as he ran, hitting Zoey with his shoulder to get her out of the way. The unexpected force was enough to make the young woman trip over her own feet and fall to her side, but it got her away just in time. Unfortunately for the tattooed man, the action put him in the way. Unable to change it's course mid-jump, the hunter kept it's claws out in front to get what it could before landing. It ended up hitting the biker in the shoulder with enough force to knock the man down. Which person was taken down didn't matter to the hunters. As soon as one of them had fallen- ridden to the ground by one of the back- they all pounced in an attempt to get to their prey.

It didn't take long after hitting the ground for Zoey to roll on her side enough to take aim with her gun. She didn't worry about running. She didn't worry about getting away. She didn't think about how many bullets she had left. Instead, the brunette aimed and started shooting at the hunters in as quick succession as she could. With adrenaline pumping and everything seeming slower, so much slower, than it really was, she was able to take out four of them mid-air. If they lived through the trip and made it back to the prison, she would have to brag about those four shots for a long time. Of course, she would have to worry about that _after _she got the hunter that had taken Francis down off of the man and the two of them got somewhere safe.

Scrambling to her feet, the brunette launched herself forward and shouldered the hunger off of her fellow survivor. Before it could pounce at her in retaliation, she shot it in the head and it dropped to the ground in an unmoving heap with a dull thud that sounded much louder it was in the sudden silence. The hunters had been so loud while chasing them. The lack of their growls and yells was almost surreal in a way. A pained groan cut through the silence and, suddenly, time moved at a normal pace.

Soft brown eyes blinked dumbly, trying to figure out what to do. It had been a long time, too long, since they were in such a dire situation and Zoey took loner than she should have to react. It took longer than it should have to register what she should have been doing. Longer than it should have for her to rush forward and pull the biker up. That Francis was alive enough to help himself stand and run with Zoey as a crutch was a blessing for the girl, who was sure she wouldn't have been able to drag Francis quickly enough if he had been dead weight. He had too many pounds on her for her to be able to move him that far that fast.

The immediate threat was gone, but that didn't stop the blood flowing from the initial wound the hunter inflicted while downing the large man or the subsequent ones that had been inflected before Zoey could get the zombie off of him. She felt worse than guilty knowing that her stupid pause got the man she cared about the most- not that she didn't love Louis and Bill like family- hurt and almost killed. She knew that the scent of blood would attract more zombies. It wasn't a matter of if they showed up, it was a matter of when and neither she nor Francis had the ammo to take on a full horde in that moment. She wasn't even sure Francis could use his gun properly. He was looking very cut up. She knew she needed the supplies in her red and white pack, but with the blood he was losing, she didn't know if she had time to get it. They had covered more ground than she thought either of them could in a short time and Francis was bleeding pretty bad.

Deciding to go back to it the first chance she got, Zoey left the health pack behind them in favor of helping Fancis to the church. The biker shot off the lock on the massive doors as soon as they were within range. The doors were worse than heavy, but the two were able to push them open enough to allow them to enter. Doing so made the wound on the biker's shoulder where the hunter's claw had first dug in worse, but he didn't complain about it. Francis would complain about hating things all day and all night to anyone who would listen, but that was different to him than the annoying 'woe is me, I'm so sad' complaining he had heard from many people before. If he was going to complain about something, it would be with anger because anger wasn't as bad a angst as far as the biker was concerned.

Once in, the two had to push the door close again, which they did. Immediately afterward, Zoey was pulling Francis' vest off. While he had imagined her doing something like that before- a few times before- he doubted it would end the way it did in his fantasies. Still, he couldn't hold back a small laugh that ended in a pained hiss and a snarky, "I know I said I'd wait until you were ready for this, but is now really the best time?"

Much to Francis' surprise, Zoey was taking off her lucky jacket and her shirt as she answered him, "Oh yeah, now's totally the best time. Can't think of anything better. Turn around."

When the shocked, and still bleeding too much for the ex-student's liking, Francis didn't do as he was told, Zoey rolled her eyes and walked behind him. She had folded up her shirt as quickly at possibly and pressed it down on the deepest gash- the one on his shoulder where the claws had first hit- as hard she as she could. The biker's grunt of pain was ignored as Zoey tied her jacket around the large man as tight as she possibly could to keep the shirt in place. She looked her work over, satisfied that it would due until she ran back out there and got proper bandages from the medkit.

"I'm fine, you know," Francis turned around and would have crossed his arms if it weren't for the fact that that would have hurt. "I appreciate you stripping to make me feel better and all, but you didn't have to do that. C'mon, think about all the other shit I've survived so far. Some wussie hunter scratch is nothing."

Zoey scowled and picked up the leather vest she had taken from her fellow survivor, "This is the safest place for us to be until you stop bleeding. The faster we get it to stop, the faster we can get the stuff we came here for and go home."

A large hand reached out for the vest, but the article of clothing was pulled away before he could grab it. Instead of giving it back, Zoey put it on to cover her bra. The sight of her in the obviously too big vest, arms crossed and huffing at Francis, daring him to say a single thing to the contrary, was adorable. Having someone around who cared for him had been new when the apocalypse had started, but he had grown to really like it when that person was Zoey; especially because she didn't coddle or baby him whenever she had to patch him up. She glared at him or told him to stop being a baby. It made being fussed over less annoying.

The biker grinned and shook his head, "Yeah, yeah. Great. If Bill gets all pissy because we didn't finish our mission fast enough, I'm telling him its your fault."

"Fine," Zoey crossed her arms, "I'm not giving you your vest back."


	7. Cosplaying

A/N: Some of these themes are difficult to fit into the world. I guess that's why they call it a challenge, huh? xD

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 7: Cosplaying

Francis didn't like sitting in the church and waiting for Zoey to grab the health pack. He really didn't like that neither of them were sure there weren't more damn hunters or anything else horrible around. Thoughts of everything that could happen without him there watching the woman's back brought a frustrated growl from his throat. How sore his shoulder felt didn't matter. What mattered was not letting Zoey go off and do something stupid on her own. Unfortunately, he had let her go off. Or, rather, the brunette had told him that she would shoot him herself if he went after her. That wouldn't have stopped him if it weren't for how low on ammo they were. He really didn't want Zoey in trouble because she wasted her last bullet on him.

Before the large man could do something drastic, like throw things around or kick a pew or run out after Zoey, the door started to open. Francis had to help Zoey open it enough for her to get in, and the two of them pushed it closed again before she turned and shot a grin at her fellow survivor. Sparkling brown eyes were met with a very unamused pair of gray.

Instead of any stories about what happened out there or any kind of apology for taking so long and making the biker worry, Zoey just set to work with the med kit with a too cheery, "Hold up while I heal you."

Once the now-bloody remains of Zoey's clothing had been removed from the biker and replaced with proper bandages, the stained clothing was placed in the duffel bag. Francis figured she wanted to keep the jacket, but he hadn't expected her undershirt and his white wife beater to be put in there as well. When he asked about it, Zoey had shrugged. She refused to give him the leather vest back until she had a proper shirt to replace it- not that he would have minded the view if she didn't have anything to cover up with- and told him that, if anyone was going to be enjoying a view, it was going to be her. The tattooed man had always been to proud of his looks and was more than happy to oblige her. He even put an extra flex into his movements whenever she glanced at him, ignoring the pain in his back and shoulder as he did.

Surprisingly for the two of them, the trip from the church to the mall was actually uneventful. They were even able to get into a gun shop they found along the way. It was left wide open. No alarms. No obvious signs of looting. It looked to them like the trip back home would be much easier than the trip out would be. Francis' bag held a copious amount of ammunition and a few extra guns by the time they were finished. It was about half of what the store held, but he had decided to leave the rest for another journey. They might need it down the road. That, and they had other things to fit into the bag and Francis didn't want to carry something heavy as shit all the way back. He'd leave that kind of hauling to one of the cagers whenever they felt like driving out.

The mall itself wasn't as empty as the rest of the town, but it seemed to be filled with boomers and smokers. Keeping an eye out- they were both feeling extra careful after the event getting to the church- made the zombies they ran into fairly easy to find and deal with before they became a problem. Luckily, none of them worked together with the kind of numbers the hunters had been working with. They should have passed the mall completely and gone straight to the town's medical facility, but Zoey needed a shirt and Francis needed his vest back.

A dark eyebrow rose at Zoey as she ignored stuff that looked like her old stuff in favor of hunting through some woman's clothing store for something specific. He smirked slightly when he realized it was a pink Depeche Mode shirt. By the time she was done, she had found the little belt and a pair of boots to match the character Francis had been playing in that game a damn long time ago. Her old clothes were discarded into the large bag.

Since she had done that, Francis figured he'd return the favor. Instead of just throwing on a shirt or continuing on without one- which he really wouldn't have minded, except for the part that he probably shouldn't have been distracting Zoey with their lives on the line and all- he dragged her around the mall until he found clothing to match the little redneck guy the brunette had been playing. According to the biker, he looked better in the coverall and yellow shirt. Then again, he considered himself to be a better looking guy in general, so he might have been a little bias.

When the two set out for the medical center, they were in a much better mood than they had been. They both also looked ridiculous in someone else's clothing. Neither had a problem with that, especially because each was enjoying the view of the other. Francis made a mental note that, whenever the two got more physical with each other, to include dress up in their activities. He doubted Zoey would mind and, really, it could spice things up. He grinned at the thought.


	8. Shopping

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 8: Shopping

Before leaving the mall, Zoey insisted on getting a few other supplies. Francis had been alright with the thought of getting something more interesting than medicine- like maybe find a bike in the parking garage to steal or something- but he hadn't exactly expected it to turn out as it had. He had never before felt that he was dating Zoey in any kind of old-world sense. They had great chemistry together and had each other's backs all the time, but he wasn't that guy that got dragged to the mall to carry boxes and bags and shit while the little miss picked out girly shit to buy. Until the time that he was.

The two went through clearing out the mall as Zoey grabbed items to throw into the duffel bag. They swept the entire mall, stopping to look over items and talk about whether or not they needed them- usually meaning Zoey grabbing it and Francis talking her out of taking up room in the duffel bag with it or making fun of her for grabbing it in the first place. It was the most normal thing the two of them had done together, but part of that scared the biker. He wasn't a normal relationship kind of guy. The last steady thing he had had was with a stripper who was probably married to another guy. It hadn't been a very loving relationship in anything but the physical sense, but that was what Francis was comfortable with. The lovey dovey crap was better left to other people. Horrified thoughts of Zoey trying to get him be that guy who worked a boring job and went home to the hot dinner she had slaved over the oven all day to make drifted through his mind, prompting him to cut their mall visit short, despite the fact that the part of him that thought with logic was calling him a jack-ass for thinking she would do that. Of course... they had never known each other outside of a do-or-die lifestyle. He was only guessing that she wouldn't want that.

Francis hurried the two out of the mall and towards the medical center with the excuse that he didn't want to listen to Bill's bitching. They wasted enough time at that damn church, they didn't need to waste more looking through stupid crap. It had earned him a glare and a smack to the arm, but he could handle that no problem. That was the kind of thing the girl he had fallen for would do, not Betty Home-maker. The biker could only hope that their trip get wussie medicine shit would be normal- apocalypse normal, not normal normal- and drive any thoughts of housewife Zoey getting after him for not keeping with the Joneses or whatever the fuck cagers did. The journey from one building to the other succeeded in that very well; they had a good sized horde and more than a few boomers and even a witch in the back of an ambulance. She was crying next to a very small body on a stretcher. Neither of them commented on it.

Neither of them said much of anything aside from calling out if they saw a special until they were in the town's hospital. Zoey tried to lighten the mood by treating it the same way she had treated picking up things in the mall. Just another trip to the store. Francis tried to play along without doing anything that might let her know that more than anything, more than zombies, having to settle down to a white picket fence relationship that involved trips out shopping and cuddling and two point five kids terrified him much more than zombies. At least zombies were fun.


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

A/N: A day late. I'll have to get the next one out as quickly as I can to make up for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 9: Hanging Out With Friends

Quiet days were the biggest difference between life on the run and life defending an area. Both involved a lot of work and both had moments of sheer terror along with moments where things were actually pretty alright- at least, as alright as they could be with the living dead wandering around trying to eat everyone- but life on the run meant that any day doing nothing was a day their chances of survival dropped. Supplies were based off of what they could find, not what they could grow or maintain. Shelter wasn't build for loitering too long and would be easily compromised if too many infected, or a single tank, found them. In a defensible position, they had more control over their supplies. Tanks would still be a massive problem, but the survivors had an easy fix to that.

Whenever one was spotted in the distance, the survivors would hide. Keep quiet and out of sight, as far away from the gates as they could get without being seen. On occation, this meant being stuck at the top of a watch tower, laying flat and hoping that the massive zombies weren't able to smell them. It did wonders for them all spring and through summer and fall, when there were things to be done and it never felt like enough time to do them in with infected- especially the special ones- lurking around all the time.

Winter was an exception to the days of business and, really, that was where the difference between the two life styles was most apparent. There was no making sure the crops they had somehow managed to grow stayed alive and there were fewer and fewer zombies around the colder it got. By the time the cold had settled over everything with blankets of snow sheeting the ground, the survivors literally had nothing to do. No traveling from one place to the other in search of anywhere warm enough to stay. No stumbling upon half-frozen zombies still trying to eat them. Most surprisingly, no hoping and scraping for any small bit of food they could find. Supplies were stocked and the undead seemed to have lost all interest in traveling far enough away from the cities to reach the prison that they had been hiding in.

Times like that were usually spent in the warden's office- door closed and locked just in case, though it seemed superfluous- on the comfy couch and cushy chairs in there. Sometimes, they would hang out in the cafeteria instead. Rarely, they would all spend time in the library together. None of them were really readers, but it was an alright change of scenery for talking about what life had been like for them, or what they would do if things all went back to normal, or whatever else they decided to talk about. With as different as each of them had been in life, swapping stories never seemed to get old amongst the group.

It was on a particularly cold night that they had decided to build a fire to keep warm with. Instead of having it in the courtyard, they used the fire pit Francis and Louis had rigged together one day and lit one in the gym. The building had a high ceiling and the windows at the very tops of the walls were always partially opened, probably to keep the place from getting too hot whenever the convicts used it or something. Zoey didn't care why so long as it kept the building from filling with smoke.

They stayed around the fire and told ghost stories or played guessing games with each other. Louis and Zoey were banned from being on the same team for charades. Zoey had suggested camp-fire songs, but all she received were blank stares. She never suggested it again, though Francis would more often than not be hitting his thighs or knees absently, like make-shifts drums, whenever he wasn't talking. The act of killing time in the gym around a fire became the norm for the group in winter. It was really cool for them, until the night everything changed for the four survivors.


	10. With Animal Ears

A/N: This challenge. Some of these things are difficult to fit into the setting, but I think I've got this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.

30 Day Challenge 10: With Animal Ears

Something important had happened. Francis knew that much, but it was a blur and his head hurt like a fucking sonofabitch. The more he tried to think about it, the worse the pounding in his skull got. He could practically hear Zoey teasing him for hurting himself from trying too hard to think. He frowned at that, suddenly wondering where that girl was; where anyone was, really. He couldn't see anyone. It was dark all around him. What the hell happened?

Turning around revealed darkness, darkness, more darkness, and absolutely nothing else. A frustrated growl tore from the biker's throat as he started walking aimlessly forward, "Heeeeey! Is Anyone Here?!" He cuffed his hands around his mouth in an attempt to make his voice carry, "Heeeeeeeellooooooooooooo!"

An answer came from behind him, in the form of a laugh that sounded at once familiar and foreign, "What are you howling about now?"

Francis had never turned around faster in his life. He was prepared to yell at the person, or demand answers from them, or something, when his gray eyes widened and recognition set it. It was Zoey. Except, it wasn't Zoey. It was like Zoey if she were some kind of... fox... thing? He had always thought she was a foxy lady, but the furry brown triangles sticking out of her head were a little much. It was actually tripping him out to see.

"Well?" The fox-Zoey smirked and sashayed closer to the biker, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their bodies together as soon as she could. Her ears twitched, the soft fur tickling the large man's face as they did so. She asked again, "What are you howling about?"

"Uh..." Slowly, strong, tattooed arms wrapped around Zoey- that _was_ Zoey right? That, or she was the weirdest zombie yet. At least the others had the decency to look dead when they died. Inked skin twitched, expecting to feel a bushy tail along with the ears. Sure enough, there it was. The biker frowned, "I was alone."

"Oh?" Zoey-fox laughed against Francis' neck, "You know I wouldn't leave you."

She may have been some crazy fucking animal person or some shit, but it was still Zoey, and hearing that from her made the biker smile. "Good." The feeling of something twitching on his head caught the biker's attention. "...what the...?" A hand removed itself from his foxy lady to feel at whatever had caused the odd sensation.

His hands felt two triangles of soft fur poking up from his skull. Just like Zoey. A twitching at the base of his spine informed him that there was probably a matching bushy tail sticking out of his backside. Gray eyes widened, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. He opened his mouth to ask, but- before sound came out- Zoey had moved one of her hands lower to rub at the spot where the tail and his back met. Francis couldn't stop his eyelids from falling to half-mast as his brain stopped whatever it was doing to lazily recognize that he suddenly felt good. Maybe they were freak-people or something, but fuck it. That felt nice.

The feeling ceased instantly, replaced by a sharp stinging in his cheek that shocked the biker awake. He sat up on what must have been the most uncomfortable bed on the planet- even counting some of the shit things he slept on while trying not to die by zombie- in what looked like a tan tent. Next to the bed was a very concerned looking woman in scrubs and a far-too-content-for-her-own-good Zoey. At least she didn't have fox ears this time. Cautiously, a large reached up to feel his head. A little warm, but no fur-ears. Good.

"What the Hell is going on?" The biker frowned, just as confused as he had been before.


End file.
